


Of Rules and Intentions

by MiHnn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blind Date, F/M, First Date, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiHnn/pseuds/MiHnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a dating agency pairs Pansy Parkinson with Harry Potter, she has no choice but to try to live through what was sure to be an uncomfortable dinner to the best of her ability. However, Pansy never expected the few hours she was forced to endure with her former childhood enemy would turn out to be less torturous and more...tolerable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Rules and Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the PPHP Fic Exchange 2011.
> 
> Beta : Pagan

  
Pansy Parkinson prided herself on having successful first dates. So far, in the eight years that she had been dating, there had never been a dinner that didn't end with a further request to meet or a man who seemed dissatisfied with her company. They always had a splendid time. And if her date just happened to be disagreeable, she always knew what to say to give him the appearance that she was interested when she was surely not. Yes, Pansy Parkinson was an astoundingly good first date, and she had to thank the rules that her dear mother had constantly repeated when she was a child.

One of the many rules that she followed was that it was always important to _look_ interested. After all, in the wizarding world, appearance was everything. Her mother used to say that no matter how much you're _not_ interested in the man you were about to see, it was important that the rules of grooming be followed to give the impression that effort had been made due to actual interest. " _After all, Darling_ ," her mother used to say, " _even if you turn him down, he might speak of your charms to another pureblood wizard. That is what we must strive for._ "

Before every date, Pansy would spend a few hours in the bath, letting soap suds rest on her skin as she relaxed in the warm water. Then, she would rub on a goblin-made cream that made her skin glow, set her hair in an attractive style with a few well-placed charms, and apply the most minimalistic of make-up to give the illusion that she wasn't wearing any. After that, she would finally wear the robes that she had painstakingly picked days before and proceed to dress carefully, all with the help of her house elf Dizzy.

Frowning, Pansy glanced at the ornate mirror that hung in the expensive restaurant where she currently sat. Her appearance was one that she never thought she would cultivate when going out in public. But these were desperate times and she really had no choice. She noticed how two old witches kept whispering about her behind their menus, how the giggling bints at the next table over made snide remarks about her appearance and how the waiter ignored her request for a particular elven wine when he thought that she wouldn't be able to afford it. Yes, Pansy Parkinson had never gone out in public looking the way she currently did; but in her mind, she had no choice.

She wore no make-up, which exposed the dark circles under her eyes, her oddly shaped lips and made her nose as pronounced as ever. Her clothing was what she usually wore when she was home alone and not expecting any company, the frayed edges and the dull colour of her robes making no bold statements as to the social class she currently belonged to. She had never, in her life, put in so much effort to look this bad. But as far as she was concerned, it was worth it. For in a few minutes, a childhood rival was going to walk through that door and she was going to sit with him and suffer a long dinner until it was forced to end. She knew that no matter what happened, be it the Dark Lord rising once again or Ollivander deciding to sell flowers instead of wands, she would never want to see Harry Potter ever again after tonight. Which was why she had painstakingly done the opposite of what she was used to doing her whole life. It didn't help matters that he was late either.

Bouncing her leg in an undignified manner, she perused the menu that the snotty waiter had reluctantly handed over after she threatened to get him fired for the way he had been treating her. She was a customer after all, no matter what her garb, and she'd insisted to be treated as such. But instead of concentrating on the delectable morsels that were listed down, her mind wandered to how she had found herself in this predicament. Hadn’t she been the one to barge into the offices of Wizarding Matches and demand that they set her up with someone more deserving than the son of a bartender?

“ _I don’t care who it is. I’ve paid for this service and I want someone worthy. Give me the saviour of the bloody world if you have to_.” Pansy bristled at the thought that the dating agency had taken her quite literally.

Before long, she was sent a letter with a prospective match that contained a name that she had seen countless times in the Daily Prophet and one which simply made her rip the newspaper print on to sheer principle. And now she was seated here, waiting for Harry-bleeding-Potter to walk in so she could walk out. She should have known not to sign on the dotted line, giving her consent to go on a mandatory date with whoever they coupled her with, though she had to admit a certain curiosity as to why the Saviour of the Wizarding world lacked friendly female companions and felt the need to associate himself with a wizarding dating agency. Every time she saw him in the papers he was surrounded by women who were willing to do anything for him. No doubt Draco eyed Potter with a somewhat green eye, and she really couldn’t blame him. Her friend having been a well-known Death Eater was definitely considered a social leper while she, who had stayed neutral, was looked upon with distrust. She had long passed the appropriate age of marriage and she was still single. The dating agency was a much-needed option, albeit a last resort.

Taking a sip of the glass of water, Pansy waited for the date that was so obviously late. Her heart expanded at the hope that Potter might have risked being dropped from the programme so he wouldn't have to sit and talk to her. So imagine her surprise and the bone crushing disappointment she felt when he entered the restaurant, his eyes scanning all faces until they fell on her. His reaction was instant. His back straightened and his jaw twitched before he made his way towards her, the slight flexing of his fingers showing a certain nervousness that she wouldn’t have thought possible.

"Parkinson."

She pursed her lips. "Potter."

Without another word, he sat down opposite her, the snotty waiter who had reluctantly served her practically skipping on his heels to serve the Great Harry Potter. Pansy wished Draco had been with her; they could have sneered at him together. Regardless, Potter got his menu, she read hers and they decided to read their individual meal options silently.  
Pansy couldn’t remember the last time she had been this uncomfortable. Ever since she was a child, she had sat through countless dinners, the majority of which could easily bore her to tears, but she had managed to sit still, smile and entertain herself satisfactorily until the desert arrived. But right now, sitting at one of the most exclusive restaurants that she had ever been to, Pansy found herself quite uncomfortable. It was an effort not to shift in her chair for the need to do _something_ to distract herself, which she had to admit was highly rude and therefore an unacceptable thing to do.

When the complimentary wine from the management was sent to their table, the silence still continued. Unwittingly, she felt that she was partaking in a battle of wits, the deciding factor being who could leave the dinner having saying the least. The only distraction she had was her imagination which proved fruitless in trying to picture that she was having dinner alone. She couldn’t help but swirl the wine in her hand several times far beyond the respectable number, take a long sip that might have made people think she had a certain addiction, and postpone swallowing the tangy liquid in a way that was bordering on crude. She did all of this, taking time with every swirl, every sip, and glancing at him randomly in judgement, and yet, it didn’t stop the tense silence that surrounded their table as Potter ignored her and she ignored him.

Pursing her lips further, Pansy couldn’t help but blame herself for the rather awkward situation she was currently suffering through. She really wished there had been a clause in the contract allowing her to reject a date at first sight.  
Raising her gaze reluctantly, she met striking green eyes before they flicked away from hers, the person opposite her clearing his throat before pretending to read the menu in front of him. She watched him over the rim of her glass while his eyes scanned the menu. She found it only fair; he had been staring at her for the past ten minutes while she had been ignoring him.

When the waiter arrived five minutes later, Pansy was highly aware that it was the first time she had heard him state a full sentence since the Battle of Hogwarts eight years ago, and that too, was directed at the waiter, not her. She fought the insult she felt as she stated delicately and in perfect French, her order, earning another curious gaze from her companion as well as the waiter.

After the waiter left, they continued on in silence, deciding to forgo the primary rule of any social activity which was the initiation of small talk. Sometimes, their gazes would meet and she would have the urge to say something, her mind leaning towards an insult as to his hair or clothing choice because that seemed like the most appropriate thing. Because she found herself unable to start a battle at the risk of losing the war, she simply stayed silent, choosing to raise an eyebrow now and then at the way he gulped his wine rather than sipped it. But even Pansy couldn't keep herself quiet when he was blatantly ignoring well known rules of etiquette when their meals arrived.

“That’s the salad fork.”

Potter looked up at her, eyes green, deep and studying her. “I know.”

Pansy pursed her lips. “Then why are you using it for the main course?”

“Do you have a problem with how I eat?” he asked her, his mouth forming a grim line.  
Pansy’s back straightened defensively. “No. I was just pointing out the obvious.”

His eyes narrowed. “The obvious…”

“Potter-“ Pansy stopped, suddenly realising that she was about to explain her stance to him. She didn’t know what she had said, but it was obvious that he was put out. On the other hand, why should she explain anything to him? Instead, she found herself distracted by another rule of dinner etiquette. “You forgot your napkin.”

Potter looked down to the side, his eyes studying the crumpled napkin beside his plate before his gaze met hers. “Are you going to spend all your time pointing these out?”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed. “No. Are you going to spend all your time doing whatever you want?”  
For a brief second, his eyes sparkled in mischief. “Maybe.”

Pansy blinked in surprise, the realisation that he was joking with her coming as an unwanted surprise. Potter acting like the high and mighty saviour of all was one thing; it was familiar, expected even, but him looking at her the way he was, with his eyes bright and his lips quirked with humour was highly unnerving. Pansy didn’t know quite what to say. And she was hardly ever speechless in her life. "There are rules, you know," she said primly.

His eyes studied her for a moment before he shrugged. "Not all rules should be followed."

If Pansy had been sipping her wine, she was sure that she would have spit it right out. Pity she wasn't, she would have aimed right for him. "I forgot," she said dryly, "you were the well-known rule breaker in our year."

Maybe it was the light, but he seemed highly amused by her description of him. "And you weren't?"

Pansy raised an immaculate eyebrow at him. "It seems that some reputations stay buried after

Hogwarts." She took a sip of her wine, enjoying the taste of it before continuing. "I consorted with rule breakers, I'll have to admit. Draco had a strong fondness towards proving to everyone that he was above it all. But, I never did. I followed the rules just as everyone else."

Potter looked at her curiously, his expression one of open interest. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Completely without thought, Pansy looked down at the clothing she had chosen, completely forgetting what she was wearing and why.

"Every time I see you in the papers you're dressed well. It's the first time I've ever seen you in anything that was not...posh." All she had to do was look at him pointedly before he surprised her again, letting out a short laugh as his eyes danced in humour. "Ah! You refused to dress up for me."

She gestured towards his attire. "I see you haven't dressed for me."

"I came from work," he said in a chastising tone, although his demeanour made it seem more playful than argumentative.

Pansy couldn’t' help the reluctant tilt of her lips. "So did I," she said pointedly, earning an amused shake of his head.

It took a moment, but Pansy finally realised that she was smiling at Harry Potter and Merlin, he was smiling right back. With great effort, she twisted her lips into a grim line of distaste, highly upset by the ease with which he had made her forget herself and joke around with him. It was the Potter charm, no doubt, since she had seen many a person who had fallen into the well placed trap that was his open, honest features and expressive green eyes. She never thought it possible that she would fall for it as well, since she had spent her school years glued to the other inhabitants of her house which kept her perspective in check. It was unsettling that he could affect her like this.

Potter obviously noticed. "Listen, Parkinson. It's obvious that we both don't want to be here. So how about I pay the cheque, walk you home and we go our separate ways without hexing each other?"

Again, her lips quirked in a small, reluctant smile, even though her insides were churning due to his rejection. "That, I actually agree with." It worried her that she felt their conversation was cut too short and that she wasn't stating plainly that she could go home by herself. It had been so long since she had felt comfortable with a person who wasn't already a family friend; years, really. And the grateful smile that he sent her way -no doubt the charming smile he always used to get his way- pulled at that spot inside her that craved for companionship; uncomplicated, friendly, easy companionship. She knew she was going to regret this dinner somehow, although she didn't think it would be because of this.

By the time the cheque arrived, she was listing the popular rules of dinner etiquette while Potter tried his best to dispute each rule she presented to him. Luckily for her, he failed miserably on that front, though he made her smile more often than she was comfortable with and even earned a giggle from her at one badly laid joke.

Pansy had already broken the rules she had set out for herself, including to keep herself detached, not to fraternize with the enemy and to ensure that Harry Potter turned around and ran the first chance she gave him. Though these rules were somewhat blasted into oblivion like a well-aimed curse, she decided to stick to one last rule: never criticise the person paying for dinner. Still, it took every ounce of self-control she possessed, not to point out that the tip Potter left was way above the appropriate percentage paid to a waiter in general.  
If anyone had ever told Pansy that one day Harry Potter would walk her home and she would _let_ him, she would have had Draco to set Crabbe and Goyle on them for such impertinence. And yet, here she was walking alongside the most popular man in wizarding England, completely at ease with his company, and holding his hand no less. At some point, she had to admit that the Potter charm was simply too dangerous to ignore.

They were walking slowly, discussing the changing practices of the Ministry when some drunken, buggering arse almost knocked her over. Having seen this charming specimen of drunkenness while she hadn't, Potter grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, so as to take away the obstacle in front of the drunk individual. Pansy watched the man stagger away, mumbling utter nonsense under his breath while she vaguely noticed the warm touch of Potter's palm against hers. It was a cold night and she rather liked having the warmth that coursed through her body from that one point of contact. Maybe he felt the chill too, since he simply chose to keep her hand in his as they continued to walk. Her mother had once told her that it was important never to show any sort of affection on the first date; the point of the meeting was for an unbiased evaluation of a potential husband. Pansy winced inwardly at the thought of her mother seeing her with her hand gripped lightly by the man she was supposed to ignore, followed by a moment of slight breathlessness when that same man entwined his fingers with hers and brought her hand even closer to his.

She didn't know how it happened or why, but Pansy found herself regretting the end of their date the moment they stopped in front of her modest apartment in wizarding London, the only place she felt safe after she had decided that staying away from her mother was the healthy choice for her. She couldn't help but notice how Potter kept holding onto her hand for a moment longer than necessary before he let go. She missed the contact instantly.  
"Well then, this has been rather...enlightening."

She was inclined to agree, but didn't. "Not at all. I think this was extremely predictable."

He looked at her incredulously. "Predictable?"

Pansy didn't know what it was, but she had a feeling that he was insulted by it. "Of course it was predictable, Potter. You were nice, I was aloof. You offered to walk me home as expected and I accepted which was unexpected. And now you will shake my hand, say what a pleasant evening you had and go on your way. I will continue to see you in the Daily Prophet until we meet randomly a few years later after you've married a respectable half-blood and have tiny Potters running around your ankles." And just to prove her point, she held out her hand.

Potter simply stared at the hand she offered, his face marred by a thoughtful frown. "What if I want to see you again?"

Pansy's smile fell, her uncertainty as to whether he was speaking the truth or not unhinging her. "Why would you want to?"

He shrugged, that cheeky smile pulling against his lips and making him look that much younger. "We had a fairly pleasant time, didn't we? I don't see why we shouldn't do it again."

"I don't-"

"Unless there's a reason why you wouldn't want to see me again."

Merlin help her, she was speechless once again. She had stepped out of her apartment with one single goal which was to never see her date ever again; she never expected him to request another meeting so soon and from her of all people. She was probably still too gobsmacked to answer for he sighed before he spoke reluctantly.

"I'm sure you're probably wondering why I signed up for a dating agency. I don't often meet people who can talk to me normally and I have found it hard to meet anyone who's willing to argue with whatever I say." He smiled softly. "Meeting you was refreshing."

It took everything within her not to collapse onto the floor since her legs were shaking so hard they felt like jelly. No one had ever said anything remotely that nice to her in all the dates she had ever gone on. Pansy hardly noticed when she broke another rule that she had always followed. "I suppose another dinner, maybe somewhere less noticeable, might be alright."

The slight pull of his lips made her smile in response and without thought. "Sounds good." With a quick duck of his head, he stepped back, shrugging his shoulders and making a move to leave. But Pansy couldn't let him go so easily.

"Oh and, Potter..." He stopped, his eyes happily curious. "If you don't tell your friends, I won't tell mine."

His grin widened. "Are you worried that I might hex Malfoy?"

Pansy stifled a small laugh. "Merlin, no. I'm afraid that he would hex you and start a war." Her smile was humourless. "I don't choose sides for a reason."

Potter smirked, ducking his head in a mock bow. "I'll see you later then."

She responded with her own bow. "So it would seem."

He was about to turn around before he stopped, his hesitation confusing her. In the next moment, he had walked towards her his steps quick and purposeful before he bent down and touched his lips to her cheek. Had Pansy not been surprised she would have surely said something witty and appropriate. Instead, she found herself distracted by how close he was and the tingle she felt in her cheek. It had been too long since she had felt this feeling of excited nervousness in the base of her stomach, too long since she had looked at a man and wanted nothing more than to snog him senseless. The fact that the man who she happened to have these feelings for was a person she had once hated was an unfortunate coincidence that had fled from her mind.

Without thinking of the possible repercussions, she stood on her toes and met his lips with hers. Potter kissed her back instantly, softly at first while his arms circled around her and her hands fisted themselves in his robes. The kiss was mind numbing and toe-curling. It was the first time she had ever felt a kiss that left her breathless and satisfied at the same time, and it was the first time she had ever decided to do something based purely on feeling. With one hand behind her, she opened the door while she used the other to tug him inside.

After all, Pansy had broken several rules already this night, so what was one more?


End file.
